[The pressure of the bite, of the push of Kate's hands, and the push of her breasts--Johanna just smiles, as her eyes slip shut, just a little. The hover of Kate's touch is a little irritating. It would be nice if she would just dip her hand lower, all on her own. But she won't. Johanna thinks, idly, of making her, of grabbing hold of her hand--but doesn't, not yet. She can wait.]

I'd love it if he tried that on me. [Either the suggestion of stomping or an attempt: she doesn't qualify it, but leaves it open.] I'd kill him.

[And the way she says that is so plain and matter-of-fact that it would be difficult to argue with. Of course she would kill him. And if he stopped her, she would just try again, and again. She would kill herself before she gave up. That's how Johanna works, methodically crazy.]

I get what I want out of him, and he gets what he wants out of me. I like that. But-- [And she sighs, and sags back against Kate a little, relaxing into her.] He's never had me in the shower. That's what I want.

[Right now, anyways. And that's what matters.]